AN INCANDESCENT WORLD

an incandescent world

rainbow bubble pearled

to which we might still belong

despite the broken veined histories

and penitence prolonged

just for chipping the crockery

at the geological dig.

we children dreamed it all, dickery dockery

but we could not claim it

so we just were it

for awhile, cutting our paper dolls from the newspapers

painted over in milky pastels

or dreamed of it in little bits shining

magpie caught and silvery shelled

something beneficent longed for

in the dream clouds, swaying the trees

the spears of grass at our knees

the silent chivalries beyond all ken

whenever we walked toward, when?

through the red clover. 

it's not on any map they rolled down for us at school

you cannot compare apples to oranges

and pinpoint it at all on the dunce crowned stools

or even pronounce its name when the late rains

collect in the nightshade lanes and you are tardy

but you feel it, just the same.

so apple blossomed, framed

forever there in the time lapsing picture

the world you thought you were in to begin with.

one thousand Springs away

in the filmy distances, young sprouts

on their way, as my Grandfather would say

playing hide and go seek

by the light of the Milky Way.

mary angela douglas 6 november 2022